Pierre had cut his headlights when the porch light was a pinprick. Now he switched off the parking lights. How he knew where to go was beyond Bear. What if the road curved? Were there ditches along the side? Probably not. Like most country driveways, it probably followed the natural contours of the path. Presumably, Pierre knew it. Or the guy had great night vision. Whatever the case, Bear kept from worrying by thinking about Mandy being present. From here, the two could go anywhere.

  Fifty feet from the house, two floodlights exploded in a wash of white. Motion activated, Bear guessed. The front door swung open. A slender figured waited. The silhouette bore a resemblance to Kat. Bear craned his neck as though it would allow him to see past the woman and locate Mandy. A short expanse of concrete led to the garage. The white door was down. No windows. The Audi Kat and Mandy had left in had to be parked inside. Pierre stopped there and cut the engine. He left the keys in the ignition and exited the car.

  Stepping out to join the Frenchman, Bear heard the woman on the porch call out in her native tongue. The voice was too mature to be Kat's. He looked over and saw her standing in the light. She looked to be in her late forties. Slim, attractive, hair still dark. But not Kat.

  "Pierre," the woman said, looking past the man. "Where is Kat?"

  The feeling in Bear's stomach was something he'd only felt on a couple occasions. The day he'd been falsely told that Jack had died was one. He struggled to recall another. If Kat wasn't here, neither was Mandy. He rushed forward, colliding with Pierre at the base of the steps leading to the porch. The Frenchman appeared to be in a similar state of panic. They hadn't been able to contact Kat since leaving Nice, but that was easily explained by the fact that cellular service was spotty at best in the region. And local phone service outages were common, according to Pierre.

  "You tell me," Pierre shouted to the woman. "She should have been here hours ago. Are you saying you haven't heard from her at all? Why didn't you call me?"

  She shook her head violently, as though the action could keep the inevitable truth at bay. "Our phone has been out for quite some time."

  Pierre didn't seem to hear her as he pushed past and entered the home. Bear and the woman remained outside. Her on the porch. Him on the walkway. Staring at each other.

  "Who are you?" she asked in English after a few moments.

  "Friend of Pierre's," he said. "My girl was with Kat."

  "So you're a criminal, too." Her eyes narrowed. She stepped back.

  Bear didn't know what to do so he shrugged. It'd been years since he had been anything other than a contractor. Never considered himself a criminal. Not in the sense of thugs who hang on the street mugging innocent people. Not in the way that bank robbers, rapists, or serial killers are. He'd worked with Jack, offering services to the highest bidder.

  "What did you want with my Kat?" she asked.

  Bear leaned back; an attempt to dodge the verbal blow. He'd never met the old lady before, much less had a conversation about her daughter that would result in her seeing through his facade. Able to tell he was in love with Kat.

  "Nothing," Bear said. "She was accompanying my girl."

  "No man just relinquishes control of his daughter to some woman he doesn't know or have feelings for."

  Bear didn't correct her about Mandy not being his daughter. He'd come to think of her as his own.

  "So?" the woman said.

  Behind her, Pierre passed by the door. He glanced out, made eye contact with Bear and offered a slight shake of his head, then continued past.

  "So, what?" Bear said.

  "What about my daughter?"

  "I've worked with Pierre in the past," he replied, unsure why he felt he owed the woman an explanation. "He trusted her. That was good enough for me."

  "You trusted your daughter's life in the hands of a woman who can barely hold down a job waitressing." Her head moved side to side, like a swinging door. "Makes no sense."

  Bear took a few steps forward, stopping on the second stair, bringing him eye to eye with the woman. "What do you know?"

  She leaned back at first, then eased forward. "About what?"

  "What's happening here tonight."

  The toughness left her face. Eyes watered over. Tears spilled out over her cheeks. "What happened to my daughter?"

  Rusted hinges scraped as Pierre pushed the screen door open. "No sign of anyone here."

  Bear pushed past the woman and met the Frenchman halfway across the porch.

  "What should we do?" he asked. "Who can we call?"

  "First, we need to get Kat's mother out of here. She's not safe. If someone has Kat, they'll find this place."

  "OK."

  "Then I'll start making calls. Get eyes out looking for the Audi. Looking for them. I'll take any lead at this point, because as it stands, I don't have a clue."

  Bear could only nod in agreement. He had no idea which way to turn next either.

  "Where is your car?" Pierre asked the woman.

  "In the garage behind the house. Why?"

  "I don't know that we should use mine anymore. If there is a chance they found the Audi, they can find this."

  "Agreed," Bear said.

  "Get your keys," Pierre told the woman. "We need to go."

  "Where?" she said.

  "First, to get you on a train. Then to find Kat."

  "And Mandy," Bear said.

  "And Mandy," Pierre repeated.

  48

  Tenerife.

  THE EARLY MORNING sky remained dark blue except at the horizon. It was close to six a.m. There wouldn't be sunlight for a few more hours. Lights along the highway gave their surroundings an orange glow. Taillights dotted the landscape ahead.

  "We should be there within twenty minutes," Mason said.

  Twenty more minutes until the journey was over. Actually, she thought, it might just be beginning.

  They reached the resort and left the vehicle parked in front, next to the curb. A man approached, telling her she couldn't park there. Sasha ignored him. Mason did, too. Inside the lobby, Mason spotted the check-in desk and tugged at Sasha's elbow. The guy behind the desk glanced up at them and held up a bony finger while his other hand pressed a phone to his head.

  Sasha ignored the man's request. "Erin Carlisle's room."

  The guy shot her a cross look and continued his conversation.

  Sasha turned to Mason. "Little help here?"

  Mason unclasped his watch. Slipped off his wedding ring. Slipped both in his right pocket. Then he placed his left arm on the counter and leaned over it as he left his feet. His free hand reached out. The guy on the other side of the desk stopped talking. His eyes widened. He dropped the phone. Mason grabbed him behind the head, securing a thick patch of hair in his grasp. Then using his planted forearm, he forced himself back. The other guy came out of his seat with a howl. He tried to plant his palms on the surface, but it did no good. Any resistance meant more pain. He gave in and allowed Mason to drag him halfway over the counter.

  "My partner asked you a question," Mason said. "You rudely ignored her. Now, first I want you to apologize to her. Then you are going to give her the information she asked for."

  The guy flailed about in an attempt to find balance atop the counter. Mason pulled his head up so he faced Sasha.

  "Tell her," Mason said.

  Sasha felt the stares of everyone in the lobby fall upon her. The guy stammered out his apology then insisted he'd give her any information she wanted.

  "Erin Carlisle," she said. "I want her room number, and a key."

  "I can't give you a key," the guy said.

  Mason yanked the guy's head toward him, then fished around in his pocket and produced his badge. "You see this? This means you do whatever the bloody hell we tell you to. You have any idea what we can do to you? Borders mean nothing to us. For all I know, you're hell bent on setting off an attack on England. All I have to do is think that, and I can haul you in and keep you detained for two weeks."

  "OK, OK," the guy said. "Whatever you want. I'll do whatever you say."

  "Good," Mason said. "Now tell us Erin Carlisle's room number and produce a key."

  Several hotel employees had gathered near, including a security officer. They shuffled left to right. Shook their hands. Glanced at one another. No one had any idea what to do in this situation. And Sasha worried what Mason might try to do should one of them act. The sooner the desk guy produced a room key, the better. Fortunately, it didn't take long. He handed the plastic card over to Mason along with directions. He also insisted the security guard escort them and provide whatever support they needed. When the guard tried to protest, the desk guy insisted everything was OK. It was all a misunderstanding, and entirely his fault.

  Mason smiled and agreed. Sasha rolled her eyes. There were other ways to handle situations such as these. Better ways. Nonviolent ways. That didn't matter, though. Getting to the room did.

  They rode the lift up with the security guard. He asked questions. Sasha and Mason ignored him. She stared ahead at her reflection in the mirrored door. Mason stared at her, too, but she ignored that as well.

  The lift came to a halt. The floor indicator dinged. The doors parted. The trio stepped into the lobby. The security guard looked right, then left, perhaps acclimating himself to the floor. Might have been one of those that no matter how many times they'd walked it, the enclosed casing of the lift left his sense of direction misaligned after a ride up.

  "This way," he said, pointing down the hallway.

  They followed his lead. It was impossible to tell whether the rooms they passed were occupied. She wondered if anyone had seen Erin and Mia. Would they recognize a picture of them? Had anyone been asking about them? She wondered if anyone watched the hallway through the peephole in their door. Her gaze traveled from the room numbers to the gap at the door. She watched for obstructed light. Shadows moving. Shifting. Someone ready to move should their prey be tampered with.

  "Here it is," the guy announced.

  Sasha wanted to hit him. Mason nearly did. She reached out and grabbed his wrist.

  "Keep it down," Mason said.

  Sasha stepped in front and slid the key into the magnetic reader. The light flashed red, then green, blinked a couple times then remained solid. The lock disengaged. She pulled her pistol. The guard made a noise, but otherwise didn't interfere. Mason stepped forward.

  "I'll lead," he whispered, reaching for the handle.

  She dropped to a knee, extended her pistol. The approach wasn't ideal. There was already a rift between Erin and her. This would widen it. And probably scare Mia. But if something had already happened - if whoever had pinged Erin's records had already found her - then the way they were handling it was ideal. Minus the security guard, obviously. But he was there, and might even prove useful.

  "Going," Mason said, exploding through the door, sidearm drawn and aimed in front of him. He shouted once inside. "Everyone down. Hands up. Let me see your hands."

  Sasha followed him in. Covering the room. Staying low. Watching the shadows. Finding nothing.

  "It's empty," Mason said.

  "I know." She rose and walked past him, toward the window. Splitting the blinds, she glanced out over the plaza. "Check the hot water in the shower."

  "Why?"

  "If they were here recently, it might run warm right away."

  "Water heats up pretty fast here," the guard said.

  "Shut up," Mason said as he passed the man on the way to the bathroom.

  Sasha continued to stare out the window. "What kind of security camera system do they have in place?"

  "You asking me?" the guard said.

  She glanced back, nodded.

  "Halls, elevator lobbies, main lobby, front and rear and sides of the building."

  "What about in the plaza? Does the city have a system in place?"

  The guard nodded. "Don't know much about it, but yeah. If you look up at the light poles, you see them cameras aimed down."

  "And do you know anyone with access to those?"

  "I'm private security, ma'am. Work for the hotel. I suppose you'd have to reach out to the local authorities." He looked to his left, toward the wall, then back at her. "What do you think happened here?"

  She shrugged, feigning uncertainty.

  He glanced to his left again, head titled, like a dog who's heard a squirrel padding across the back patio. "You hear that?"

  "Hear what?"

  "Come here."

  She crossed to him, called out, "Mason, cut that water and come here."

  The guard pressed his ear against the wall. Sasha did the same. Mason stepped out of the bathroom, started to speak, but said nothing. Sasha held up a finger in response to the questioning look on his face.

  "Shit," she said.

  "What?" he said.

  "That's someone calling for help." She pushed past the guard, toward the door. "Get someone up here with a key right now."

  They waited in the hall for three long minutes, unsure of what waited for them on the other side of the door. The guy from the desk handed her the room key. She and Mason followed the same entry procedure, only with her taking the lead.

  The woman sobbed when the light from the hallway hit her. It took Sasha about three seconds to recognize her as Hannah. Perhaps she feared she would now die. Maybe she realized she was saved. Sasha didn't make her wait long.

  "It's OK, Hannah," she said as she removed the gag from the woman's mouth. "You're OK now."

  "Where're Erin and Mia?" Hannah asked between sobs.

  Sasha glanced back at the Mason and the other two men. "We're going to find that out now."

  The group traveled to the lobby where they met with the local police. First up was reviewing the security footage. Hannah immediately identified Brett in the footage of her and the man entering the hotel. It took Sasha's team in London less than five minutes to return everything MI6 had on Brett Taylor. They were working on his current location when one of the policemen received a call. He informed the group of the woman found murdered on the beach.

  "Where is the body?" Sasha asked.

  "They are transporting it to the morgue," the officer said.

  "Take us there," she said.

  "Don't you think you are being a bit hasty?" Mason asked.

  "No," she said. "I've got a bad feeling. The same kind of bad feeling I had when I noticed someone had accessed Jack's files."

  "You've been monitoring Noble?"

  She ignored his question. "It's her. We need to go now."

  "There could be more on this tape, Sasha," Mason said. "Let the police do their job and we do ours."

  "This is our job," she said. Then she turned to the cop. "Take us there."

  One officer remained behind so that Hannah could ride along with Sasha and Mason to the morgue. It took less than five minutes. It was obvious the place was nothing more than a holding room. They'd keep the body here for identification, then move it to another facility for the autopsy and any forensics work. She figured the process corrupted ninety percent of any possible evidence left behind on a body.

  The cop led them inside. Despite Hannah's protests, Sasha made her wait outside the chilled room. Together, Sasha and Mason waited while the tech pulled the chilled locker out and removed the sheet draped over the body.

  Though the wounds affected the face, there was no doubt that the body was that of Erin Carlisle.

  "Shit," Sasha said.

  "That her?" Mason asked.

  "Yes, that's her. Jack's ex. His daughter's mother." She turned toward Mason. "Shit."

  Her phone cut off his reply. She saw the number and answered immediately.

  "South Africa," Brooks - one of her guys - said. "He was transported on a private flight to Johannesburg a few hours ago."

  "How soon can you get us off this island?" she asked.

  Brooks tapped on his keyboard. "Commercial flights will take way too long. They all connect at least once in Europe. Start making your way to the airport, and I'll work on finding a private jet that can take you ASAP."

  She lowered her phone and turned to Mason. "We have to go now."

  "Where?" he said.

  "Airport."

  "To go where?"

  "Johannesburg."

  "South Africa?"

  "Yes."

  "You're crazy."

  "I know."

  "What about the girl?"

  "I'll have Brooks coordinate with the locals to get her home and placed under our care."

  "You're crazy," Mason said again as Sasha exited the room with no intention of stopping until she was on a plane bound for Johannesburg, South Africa.

  49

  New York.

  CHARLES LAY ON an overstuffed bed in a cheap hotel room. The kind of place he never stayed. But tonight he didn't care. He hoped that the condition would keep him from getting too relaxed. Perhaps give his brain a chance to figure things out. He stared at a patch of yellow ceiling, near the outer wall. A leak, he supposed, from the window in the room above his. As long as it didn't cave in tonight.

  He couldn't stay away from the city for too long. Things would go to hell quick if his captains started thinking Charles had abandoned them. Everyone looked out for themselves. No one had his best interests at heart. He was sure some still thought there was a way for them to take over. He had to prevent a group of them from banding together and trying. Of course, chances of that occurring were slim. Because they all looked out for themselves. No one else. Not him. Not each other.

  Still, this trip had to come to an end. And soon. He considered the possibility of letting Paolo go. It'd only be a matter of time before the guy surfaced somewhere. A standing order on the guy's life would put a swift end to him as soon as he did. But that would require a certain amount of airing dirty laundry, so to speak. And Charles was against that. For the most part.

  A glimmer of hope surfaced when his cell phone rang and the number calling was that of Trooper McGillicuddy, Charles's contact out in these parts.

  "What do you got for me, Gilly?" Charles said.